


I Loved, I Left, I Cry

by Hitoshi



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Germany/South Vietnam, Slow Burn, Tsundere, Vietnam War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-23 16:41:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15610527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hitoshi/pseuds/Hitoshi
Summary: West Germany provided aid to South Vietnam during times of the Vienam War in the construction of buildings, as well as sending over engineers, doctors, and military advisors. Ludwig is sent to Saigon as a military advisor, where he meets a very special someone, only to be ripped away from her. Decades later, he meets someone who seems almost identical to the woman he knew- in appearance- at least





	1. Lotuses

The sun had reached its peak of its journey for the day, signalling to all that it was indeed time for lunch break. Chairs were immediately pushed back and nations, young and old, started to exit the room. But of course there were a few that pleasantly refused to keep their antics out of the meeting room.

Ludwig sighed for what seemed to the the fiftieth time that hour and ran his fingers through his blond slicked-back hair, relishing how the stress melted away for just a moment before catapulting itself back into his life. Most nations were in their late teens to early twenties- adults by the laws of most countries. But their behavior left much to be desired...

Arthur and Francis had gotten into a petty argument about who knows what again and this time, they were still wrestling on the floor even after he had announced that it was time for lunch.

Oh well, he thought. It was their lunch break and he wasn’t going to waste his breaking their fight up(again). Two lithe arms wrapped themselves around one of his and a telltale curl came into view.

“Feliciano.”

“Veee~ Luddy! You guessed right again!” The small Italian giggled, “Do you want to eat with me today? And perhaps we can pick up pretty girls too! You look like you need a pick me up-”

His hands started to methodically sort his papers. It was muscle memory by now and it wasn’t hard to do even with the Italian cutting off the circulation in his left arm.

“I’d rather not.” He said a tad gruffer than he meant to. The previous day’s events had caught up to him and he couldn’t help but feel exhausted and too tired to deal with even his friend’s antics(which arguable were some of the worst to deal with…)

“But Ludwiiiiiig~” The Italian started to yabber on about how they rarely hang out anymore and how last night, he had run out of pasta(which was once thought to be an impossible task considering how Feliciano would binge shop for every type of pasta noodle available when they shopped together).

Sighing, he was about to shake the Italian off and tell him to run along, as he had better(and more calming) things to do than waste his time with someone who was likely just going to run him down even more than Gilbert had managed to do in his drunken state. But then... a certain scent made his brain machine screech to a stop and his heart pang painfully in his chest. It was the scent of lotuses…

His head turned before he realized and the only thing he saw was a ponytail as the woman strode out the door, politely closing it behind her, which was something the other nations neglected to do.

“Ooh, do you not want to pick up pretty girls because you already have a crush on Miss Vietnam?” Feliciano cooed. “If you’re too shy to fess up, I can give you some tips on h-”

  
“I do not have a crush on her, Feliciano.” Ludwig sighed. Feliciano had a bad habit of jumping to conclusions. This one was quite far from the truth.

Feliciano sighed dramatically. “Luddy, what am I to do with you? If you did not have a crush on Miss Vietnam, then why did you stare for so long at her? I will help you with your little secret, ve~?” One honey brown eye was open. The other was closed. He still had a chance to stop the monster before it emerged. A sly smirk was growing on the Italian’s lips as he leaned back in a chair and kicked up a leg on the mahogany table. He suddenly looked so much more like a man and not the weak, little boy he portrayed. This was a side of the Italian which was not as well known as his pitiful outwards persona, though it was no secret that the Italy brothers were not shy of expressing their love for women openly.

“Feliciano, I have not even talked to her in decades” He sighed. “I was merely distracted by a song the nightingales were singing. There is a nest in one of the trees you know. You might be able to find it if you look hard enough.” It was true, but that wasn't why he was distracted.

And innocent, little Feli was back, eyes shut again, as he sprung from the chair he was sitting on to the window and pressed his face up against it. “Where is it? Where’s the bird nest? Luddy, help me find iiiit-”

“I’m going to get something to eat now.” He packed his sorted papers into his suitcase and headed off, leaving the Italian to his own devices.

* * *

 Getting something to eat was something Ludwig was unused to. Usually he packed his own food, even if the annual meeting was held in his country. But after a night of taking care of Gilbert on top of all the paperwork he did the day before, he had been too tired and somehow… forgot.

Gilbert was something. Oftentimes, people mistook him for the youngest, irresponsible brother even though it was really the other way around. Then again, Ludwig couldn’t blame them. What kind of older brother totaled seven cars in three years? Not a good one, by human standards. But by country standards, he was proud to call the man once known as Prussia his brother.

The first street vendor Ludwig saw was selling currywurst. Even though his body was screaming at him to get something sweet to kick-start his brain, he got the currywurst anyway. There wasn’t enough time in his break to be picky about what to eat. He had to get a head-start on his paperwork after all, or else he'd have a repeat of the day before.

The meeting room was empty- not surprisingly. Ludwig assumed that Feliciano had finally left to go get pasta and more pasta and probably tomato sauce for his drink. One day when he wasn’t so utterly done with everything, he’d introduce Feli to Spaghettieis. The Italian would surely love it as it was an amalgamation of his two favorite food- pasta and spaghetti.

He immediately took his seat at the head of the table and unpacked his papers after putting his food somewhere that wouldn’t stain his papers as he worked on them.

The clock rang once just as it struck 1 o’clock and he started on his paperwork just the minute after, taking bites of his food here and there. The minutes ticked by idly as he went from pen-read-sign-place somewhere else- take another paper- repeat. The nightingale's song implored him to take a rest and have a normal lunch break for once, but no- he just wouldn't listen. He was so engrossed in his paperwork that when the door opened, he didn’t even look up.

“Germany? I was not aware that you were still here.” A distinctly female voice called out from behind him. Instinctively, he turned, elbow poised to strike whoever dare stand behind him. Instead, he stopped.

"Xuan?..."

* * *

_Ameri- Alfred, as he told Ludwig to call him, was yet again ignoring him to flirt with one of the village women. As much as it irritated him, he couldn't do much to say so to his superior or 'hero' as Alfred liked to call himself. As much as he disliked that term, it was true in a sense. It was due to Alfred and his country's ingenious plan to make Germany's economy in what it once was- no, even better. Under Alfred, he had grown from a scrawny, underfed foot soldier to a musclebound general with one of the sharpest minds in Germany. Being immortal and at least a couple hundred years old helped._

_It confused him though, when Alfred brought the girl closer. Usually, it was flirt-and-dump, as they had much more important business to do._

_She was the definition of beautiful for a plain girl, with coarse and not so very well kept hair in twin braids framing her face. Her button nose and rather medium sized plain-jane brown eyes was what could be considered pretty, but when he looked into her eyes- a clash of earth and sea- he felt it. She was a nation too, one of the Vietnams he supposed. And my god, the fire in her eyes nearly burned away his aqua-blue eyes with their intensity._

_Clutched tight in her right hand was a pistol that didn't look like much against the weapons China and Russia were sending to the Viet Cong, but there was a fighting spirit in her and even though he was metres away from her, he could sense it._

_"Yo, Ludwig! This is Tran!' A quiet correction of 'My name is Xuan' was ignored, but Ludwig had heard._

_"You're going to be hanging out with her a lot more, so remember her, alright?"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "In the midst of darkness,  
> There shines a bright full moon,  
> I can see you shimmering,  
> You're the only flower of all the leaves  
> You are the only color when everything's black  
> When you're gone,  
> I want you back."
> 
> \- Grace Nazaret Cejo


	2. Aloe Vera

The woman had the same bronzed skin and button nose. She was a bit taller than he remembered, but perhaps it was just due to a better nutrition and economy now. But when he looked into her eyes, there was no warmth or recognition. Only icy coldness, a complete 180 from what she had sounded like just before.

“No. I am Vietnam.” She said stiffly before walking off to her seat in the ASEAN section of the table without another word. There was an awkward silence as he continued to simultaneously eat and do paperwork. A full fifteen minutes before the meeting began once again, he went to go throw away his trash and pack his mostly done papers before the other nations came in. That left them with ten minutes to spare, and although Ludwig was fine with silence, this time it was just awkward…

The ten minutes passed without incident and one by one, the nations started to trail in. Feliciano was one of the last, trailing behind his brother, Lovino who had a red hand-mark on his cheek. There was no doubt as to what happened during the lunch break. Feliciano took his seat next to Ludwig, as chatty as ever, though here and there he snuck a very noticeable peek at Vietnam every once in a while and immediately right after looked at Ludwig. 

There was a saying that subtlety was something that an Italian would never have… and as if right now, he couldn’t help but agree. 

His eyes flitted over to the Vietnamese woman a few times during the meeting. Personally, he didn’t know her. She was North Vietnam. Clearly. As they were the ones who won the war. He, however, had been in South Vietnam at the time and never personally interacted with her. Her gaze was always straight to the front, even when there was another fight breaking out.

Within a few hours, the meeting finally ended with no less than 16 brawls started and ended that day. Ludwig sighed as he went around the room to pick up papers, scoot in chairs and the like. After picking up the papers, he started to sort them; the handwriting had become so similar to him that all he needed to do was look at it and disregard the name(if it was even written at the top) all together. Even though all that work took him less than fifteen minutes, by the time he got out, the sky was already dark, save for the few streaks of orange that still stubbornly clung to their position against the growing darkness. Most vendors were packing up by then, but he still spotted a lone figure in the dark speaking in accented English as she bargained with the poor vendor.

Snorting softly at the sight, he stayed for just a moment- long enough to see that the woman had gotten the price she wanted judging from the slumped back of the vendor and paid. She was handed a bag of almonds before she walked off. He snorted softly at the debacle, finding it funny how someone would bargain for just a few Euros less when the snack was already dirt cheap. 

Adjusting his scarf before the chills could seep in through any cracks, he walked to his car, a simple silver BMW which could go up to 250 kilometers an hour if he really wished to. And often he did on the autobahns.

The streets were mostly empty now except for the occasional streetwalker and drunkard and Ludwig slowed as his home came into view. Though his work and office were in the inner city, he stayed in the suburbs for a reason. One very big reason that… didn’t seem to be home right now judging from the lack of blaring music.

“Gott.” He mumbled to himself, slamming his forehead into the steering wheel. He was going to have a repeat of last night.

He trudged to the door, as if the ground had suddenly turned to knee-deep mud, and unlocked it, kicking his shoes off and falling face first onto the couch. Blurs of gold, brown, and black blitzed from the kitchen and pounced onto Ludwig.

A soft chuckle escaped from his lips as he got up and sat properly on the couch, letting the dogs lavish him with soft and slobbery kisses. He let this go on for around ten minutes before gently pushing them away. 

“Aster, Berlitz, Blackie. Kitchen. Sit.” He commanded. The dogs jumped off of him and the couch obediently to go to the kitchen, where they did indeed obediently sit quietly for once. Aster was the golden retriever, Berlitz a German Shepard, and Black a Doberman. After wiping the slobber off of himself, he entered the kitchen where he refilled their food and water bowls. After those needs were placated, he locked himself in his study, starting on the paperwork that seemed to never end. 

The dogs would scratch at the door then and now and he’d let them in for a pet or two before sending them off. Due to being on the receiving end of impeccable training since they were puppies, al three dogs grew up obedient with the occasional mischievous fit here and there. The moment he had touched the final stack of the paperwork on his desk, there was a soft knock at this door. Not the study, but the front door. It sounded distant and sure enough, he was right. Outside in the wind was a  _ very  _ drunk Gilbert along with a distinctly Vietnamese woman that was  _ not  _ amused with the slurred words Gilbert was spewing at the moment. 

“Hello, Germany. I’d like to return your brother to you now.” She said with pursed lips. Ludwig helped Gilbert into the living room and as did she before turning to leave.

“Wait-” 

Vietnam turned and he paused for just a moment. “I apologize for calling you the wrong name, Vietnam. I mistook you for someone else.”

In response, she sighed and shook her head gently. “It’s fine. I am also sorry for… giving you the cold shoulder. It wasn’t polite of me.”

On the couch, Gilbert hiccuped and slurred out, “Reach into my pants, liebe, you’ll find the key there!”

The expression on Vietnam’s face putrefied at those words. Her lips curled downwards into a disgusted grimace and she averted her eyes from him. Ludwig groaned, bringing a hand up to cover the embarrassed blush growing on his face. There was an awkward silence, with the two (unintoxicated) nations standing still, as if frozen by ice. 

Ludwig broke the silence by clearing his throat. “My… brother… He has a habit of keeping the house keys this pants. I assure you that he wasn’t trying to, ah, make advances on you…” 

“I-it’s fine.” She sighed. “Really. Now, I know.” 

“Would you like me to drive you home?” He offered. “It’s the least I can do for you after you bring Gilbert home.”

“Sure.” The Vietnamese woman nodded curtly. “That would be much appreciated.” And just then, the dogs came rushing at her, finding the appearance of a stranger that smelled so  _ different  _ than their current owners. Aster barked and jumped at the ‘intruder’ while Berlitz and Blackie merely sniffed at her before walking away, uninterested. 

“Aster! Bad dog! Down, boy, down!” Ludwig hissed, grabbing the dog by the collar and yanking him off of the poor woman. Even if she was strong enough to drag Gilbert for who knows how long to his home, she was no match for 75 pounds of pure muscle with her short and rather thin stature. 

The golden retriever whined and sat, head down with his tail tucked between his legs. Ludwig pulled Vietnam up by the hand. 

“Are you alright?” He asked softly, “I apologize for Aster’s behavior.. He’s rather friendly but doesn’t know how to control his strength.”

“I’m fine.” She sighed once again. “Believe me, I am not fragile enough to die after a dog has jumped on me.” Pausing, she murmured. “I’d enjoy it actually. Aster is a golden retriever, yes?... may I pet him?” She looked wistfully at the dog, as if remembering the old times.

“Sure.” Ludwig nodded softly. “He’s very affectionate. Just… a bit aggressive at times, I suppose. He’s the youngest out of the three.” And the least obedient too, when comparing him to the other two dogs who were lazing around on the couch.

Vietnam kneeled down to Aster’s level and petted the soft pelt of the dog gently. The dog took the sudden closeness to sniff at her face, licking her cheek cautiously after a while. Ludwig stood in front of the two. There was a soft smile that graced Vietnam’s face, her eyes reflecting a warmth that only pets could bring out in people. 

“Do you have a dog at home?” He asked curiously. Envying the attention Aster was getting, Berlitz and Blackie hopped off the couch and went to first Ludwig, and then Vietnam, who both willingly pet them. Gilbert was forgotten on the couch, for now

She shrugged faintly, scratching behind Blackie’s ears. “I used to. It was a Bac Ha. Then, poachers nabbed her while I was sleeping.”

“Ah. I’m… sorry for your loss.” He murmured. “How long ago was this?” His heart ached at that and he spared a quick glance at a photo on the wall of him kneeling by a rottweiler. “I had a rottweiler that died of… bone cancer. It isn’t the same, but I lost a companion too.”

“Her name was Hoa. That means flower, in Vietnamese.” She stood up. “I’d like to go now. It’s getting late.

Ludwig glanced at the grandfather clock just behind Vietnam.  _ 10 pm.  _

“Of course.” he nodded. “Let’s go then.” He grabbed a coat, shrugging it on before opening the door for Vietnam. They were both about to exit but Gilbert, being his drunk self, hiccuped and called out, “Weeeessst, don’t forget your keeeeys-” 

At that, he reached into his pants, gaining a disgusted eye roll from Vietnam and a pained groan from Ludwig, and threw a bunch of keys at his brother who looked at them as if they were scum. Ludwig ushered Vietnam out the door, throwing a dirty look at Gilbert who only hiccuped and grinned stupidly at him. 

“I’m sorry, again.” He sighed deeply. “He’s… crazy when he’s drunk. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s demolished the house by the time I am back.”

“Then I can take public transport, you know. I understand, Germany. I’ve had my fair share of horrible older brothers as well.” She murmured, putting her gloved hands in her pockets. “Just point me to the nearest bus station and I’ll figure it out.”

“Nonsense.” He protested. “It’s dangerous for a woman to be out on the streets at this time. I will drive you to your hotel. Where is it?”

Vietnam took out a small piece of paper with the name and address of the hotel scribbled on it in small print. “I hope you can read that. My handwriting is rather messy.”

He scanned the paper and handed it back to her. “I know where it is. Come with me.” He unlocked his car and slid into the driver’s seat. After Vietnam got in too, he turned on the heater and carefully backed out of his driveway. The drive was uneventful, with the both of them not even bothering to make small talk. When they were about half-way there, Ludwig glanced at Vietnam for a moment. She was leaned against the car door on her side, shoulders slumped. A small yawn escaped her lips and what they say about yawns is that they were contagious and that they were, as just a few moments later, he yawned as well, though he had stayed up much later than this. 

“I’m sorry.” She said suddenly. “It’s been a long day. I should have just taken a bus.”

“It’s fine.” He murmured, unwilling to admit that he had been looking at her. “I’ve been up later. You can sleep for a while. We’re not there yet, but I’ll wake you up when we’re there." 

She looked hesitant. “I’m not sure… I’ve inconvenienced you enough.”

“I assure you, nothing has been an inconvenience so far. Go ahead.” 

Vietnam sighed softly after stifling yet another yawn and nodded. “Alright then.” 

He turned on the radio. Although KMFDM was generally not a good band to fall asleep to, Vietnam’s eyes slowly but surely slipped close. He drove on for twenty more minutes before parking in front of her hotel. It was a decent place with good service from what he heard from the other nations, though the street lights around the place often flickered on and off which gave it a more shady appearance than it actually was. 

He tapped Vietnam’s shoulder gently and she woke up just as his finger connected with the edge of her shoulder. She jerked and turned, fist clenched until sudden realization of who he was hit her.

“I’m sorry.” She said quietly. “I didn’t mean to almost hit you.”

“It’s fine.” He shrugged softly. “I do that everytime Italy decides to pick my lock and just into my bed. Every time.”

“He does that?” She raised a brow. “But why? He’s… childish, but really to that extent?”

He nodded softly. “Yes. If he cannot get into  _ my  _ bed, then he’ll try to intrude on his brother’s personal space… even if he’s with Spain at the moment.” 

“Ah. Well then.” She blinked, reddening softly at the implied action that Spain and South Italy were doing together. In bed. 

Ludwig coughed awkwardly. “Yes…” After a minute, he got out the car and opened the door on Vietnam’s side. “Here. You should go rest now. The meeting still goes on for three more days after all.”

She nodded and exited. “Thank you again, Germany. Have a good night. You should sleep soon too. Paperwork is never fun, but you’ll burn out if you have at it for hours and hours without a break.”

He nodded silently at her words. Though she was right, he still wanted to finish his paperwork and get started on tomorrow’s. But with Gilbert drunk, he’d probably not even be able to step foot in his study without the albino causing mayhem. (He hoped that Gilbert would still have the sense to leave the vintage tea set alone)

“Oh, and Germany.” He looked up at Vietnam

“My name is Phuong, not Xuan. Also, your cinnamon almonds are delicious”

* * *

 

_ Sweat burns. It’s a mix of water, salt, and trace amounts of minerals and it stings painfully when it gets into your eyes. Ludwig hissed as he wiped the sweat off of his forehead for the twentieth time that morning. Even with a loose, thin, but long sleeved shirt to prevent sunburn but allow air to flow freely, he still sweated like a whore in church. He pulled the collar of his sweat-soaked shirt away from his chest and fanned himself with the other free hand. Even though he was a military advisor, he sure did have a lot of free time.  _

_ The lack of air-conditioning in most of the buildings didn’t help either. Only the homes of the elite and the Independence Palace had some form of relief from the heat. He felt sorry for the poorer Vietnamese citizens. If it was hot for him even in a place with fans and AC,  then how was it for them? (they were mostly fine with it, as it was all they knew their entire life) _

_ Once he entered the Independence Palace, he sighed out of relief.  _

_ “Yo, Ludwig!” His loudmouth, American boss called out and swung an arm around Ludwig’s shoulders, despite the fact that he was exactly 3 inches taller than Alfred. “Didja meet the ladies out there? Da-yum were they hot!”  _

_ The American chattered on about ladies, the ‘stupid’ Soviet Union, and more before releasing Ludwig and leaving him be. For now at least. Not wanting to be pulled into yet another spiel about how Communism was root of all evil, he rushed off and in doing so, nearly ran into Xuan. He stopped just before her head slammed into his chest. She stumbled back, causing Ludwig to grab her by the arm and pull her close. The result of that were two blushing young adults. _

_ “I’m sorry.” He mumbled in accented English, face as red as the sunburns adorning the back of his hands. _

_ “It fine.” She murmured in the same bad English, eyes averted from his face, running down his clothed, sweat soaked body to his hands. “I can help. No more pain” She pointed to his hands. _

_ “Ah… sure. Please.” He nodded softly, extending his hand towards her.  _

_ She gently pulled him by the fingers, leading him into the blazing heat once again. As the two walked, he couldn’t help but notice how the children would run into Xuan and cling to her calves and how the elderly would always wave her over for a piece of food or two, which she respectfully declined.  _

_ They came across an apartment building and she ushered him in her door quickly, looking around to see if there were any prying eyes following them. Ludwig understood why. To anyone just looking at them, Xuan seemed like a common prostitute, not a kindhearted woman trying to help an extremely sunburned man.  _

_ There was a one room apartment, with the kitchen shoved into one corner, the living room in another, and the ‘bedroom’ too which consisted of a straw mat with a pillow that looked as if it had been stuffed with rocks. The bathroom was nowhere to be found, as it was in an outhouse thirty feet away from the actual apartment.  _

_ Xuan placed a small, neon pink plastic stool at his feet and motioned for him to sit. She padded over to a few aloe vera plants near the window above the straw mat and gently pulled a leaf free from the plant. Using a knife, she cut and dethorned it to reveal the fleshy inside where the cooling gel was held. She scraped a bit of the gel off and rubbed it gently into his hands. He sighed audibly in relief. Once the gel was completely massaged into his hands, Xuan smiled and patted them. “Done. No more pain.” _

_ “Thank you, Chi Xuan.” He had picked up on some titles the Vietnamese used to address each other.  _

_ She pinkened a bit. “K-khong co gi.”  _

_ “Er… alright then.” He didn’t know what that meant, but he just smiled politely and nodded. _

_ The rest of the day, his hands didn’t hurt at all, even when exposed to direct sunlight. _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos!! I really appreciate it guys ^^
> 
> and-   
> khong co gi means- it's no problem  
> and the cinnamon almonds Vietnam had is called gebrannte mandeln. It's a popular street snack in Germany


End file.
